


Beyond the Veil and into the River of Death

by dark_pookha



Series: George Krupp: Necromancer [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Old Kingdom - Garth Nix
Genre: Community: HPFT, Crossover, F/M, Harry Potter Crossover - Freeform, Necromancy, Old Kingdom Crossover, Violence, domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 05:08:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14561529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dark_pookha/pseuds/dark_pookha
Summary: The necromancer George Krupp has been summoned to the Department of Mysteries to examine the archway in the Death Chamber. Apparently, it's leaking. When he travels beyond the Veil, it's not at all what he expects.An Old Kingdom crossover.Warning: This will have extensive spoilers for my story 'Bodies at Rest'.





	1. Breakfast with the Krupps

George Krupp’s day began just like any other. He poured himself a cup of very dark, Turkish coffee and sat down across from his wife, Mary. She’d already put his two Weetabix biscuits in a bowl, and while she was distracted by the newspaper, he snuck a spoonful of sugar onto them. She pretended not to notice and he pretended to not know that she wasn’t noticing, just like every day. He poured a small amount of milk around the biscuits, making sure not to soak them completely and make them soggy. 

He’d just started pulling apart the first biscuit when a large brown owl tapped at their window, with an official red banded Ministry scroll, sealed with a blob of wax, tied to its leg. He arched an eyebrow at Mary, who sighed and went to the window. The owl landed in front of George and held out its leg to him. George’s scarred hands removed the scroll, only a small tremor betraying the torture he’d endured as a teenager. 

Mary grabbed an owl treat from the cupboard and put down a small bowl of water for the bird. It bobbed its head into the water and drank a small amount before starting to devour the treat. Mary patted its head absently. 

“What does the Ministry want, dear?” She asked, only her very slight accent giving away her American heritage. 

George waved the unopened message. 

“I’m going to finish my breakfast first,” he said around a mouthful of cereal. 

Mary held out her hand and he put the scroll into it. She took her wand from the table and broke the wax seal. She unrolled it and read; her lips compressed into a thin, angry line as she went deeper into the message. 

“The nerve of those bastards. Only come running when there’s a fucking problem.” She tossed the scroll onto the table next to George. “It’s the Unspeakables.” 

“Let me guess,” George interrupted her. “They’ve had some horrible accident with the Veil and they want me to fix whatever they messed up.” 

“Wankers, they’re all useless wankers. They should have let you study it years ago, but they were just afraid of you.” She sighed again. “Anyway, the useless wankers want you to go help them, just like you knew they would at some point.” 

George put down his spoon and picked up the scroll. He read it quickly, his mouth quirking as he went. 

“What do you think they mean by ‘leaking’? Do you think that they’ve been having spirits come back through? I haven’t felt anything.” He left his cereal on the table and retrieved his wand from the stand in the sitting room where it stayed when he wasn’t using it. 

He pushed the sofa back on its sliders, revealing a large circle carved into their hardwood floors. He checked it very carefully, making sure there weren’t any breaks in the circle or debris over the lines. He could hear Mary cleaning up the breakfast dishes as he cleared his mind. The constant chatter of the dead receded as he used a combination of Occlumency and meditation to focus. He sat in the center of the circle and drew a perfect equilateral triangle around himself with the practiced ease of someone who had done this many times before. 

His bone wand began to glow green and the mummy wrapping that served as a handle pulled back a bit to give him a better grip. He held it above his head and began to chant in Middle Egyptian. The hieroglyphs carved into his wand swirled and moved. This went on for several minutes as Mary finished washing the dishes. When she was done, she watched him from the entryway until he opened his eyes. 

“Well?” she asked. 

“Nothing.” He shook his head. “I don’t feel anything unusual, there’s no chatter about anything amongst the spirits. I don’t want to contact a Loa unless I have to.” 

“You should tell them to just fuck off. They haven’t let you study that thing before and now they come crying and whining to you because there’s a problem. Let them solve their own damn problems.” She knew he wouldn’t, the lure of the Veil was too much; he had to know what it was and how it worked, just like his father. 

“Well, be careful at least, don’t let them push you into danger just so you can get a look at that thing.” She went to their bedroom, skirting the circle. He lowered his wand, erased the triangle around himself and rose. The wrapping on his wand flowed back over some of the hieroglyphs, covering them and the green light faded slowly, leaving an afterimage that lingered for a few seconds. 

He went to their bedroom and watched Mary as she changed into her work clothes, simple jeans and a blue chambray shirt. He briefly considered kissing the back of her neck where he knew she would take it as an invitation, but then looked at his watch; she’d be late for work. She held up two necklaces for him, one a large waterfall of silver chains that she’d told him was ‘liquid silver.’ The other was a simple gold choker that he’d bought for her birthday several years ago. 

“Meeting with humans or goblins today?” he asked. 

“Both,” she answered. “Billhook is coming in with some ore from the new copper mines in Zambia, and the Canadian Mineral Company is bringing in what they think may be high quality nickel deposits.” 

“In that case, you should wear the liquid silver, but you should probably also wear the copper butterfly pin.” The copper for that pin had come from a sample of the copper mines near Sudbury. 

“Promise you’ll be careful?” she asked, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him briefly. She started to pull back, but he held her and kissed her more thoroughly. 

“I promise I’ll be careful.” She turned her back to him and he clasped the liquid silver necklace around her neck, lifting her auburn hair out of the way. When her neck was exposed, he leaned in and kissed it. She gasped. 

“That’s a promise for later tonight,” he said as he released her. She turned and kissed him again, squeezed his arm gently and then went through the door. He could hear her Disapparating off to her job at her assay company. 

He changed into his work robes, traditional black with a hood that he’d added because so many clients were disappointed that he didn’t ‘look like a necromancer.’ He also grabbed his danger pack, making sure it was still filled properly and then shrank it with his wand and stuffed it into his pocket. His hand lingered over the panpipes that he’d been learning to play, which Mary hated. She thought they sounded like a tortured raccoon, or perhaps a mating cat. He hesitated for only a moment, then put the pipes in his pocket too. Who knew, there might be a break today and he’d practice then; plus, he just had a feeling and he never ignored his feelings. 

He double-checked that Samson had fresh water and food, then went hunting for him. He found the large black cat curled up on their bed, under their duvet. He scratched Samson under the chin, receiving purring and a gentle head-butt in return. 

“You’re in charge until we get back, Samson.” He said as he walked to the living room. 

“Ministry of Magic.” He threw Floo powder into the fireplace and then went into it. 

The elevator ride to Level Nine where the Department of Mysteries was seemed to take forever. He was used to people staring at him by now, but it was still hard to deal with sometimes. People noticed his black robes, bald head, scarred hands and face and assumed the worst. A mousy clerk started to get on the elevator with him, but when she saw him, she squeaked and turned on her heels. For a brief moment, he thought about telling her what her dead mother would have thought of that, but then stopped. It would only freak her out and to no good end except his own amusement. 

Finally, the door opened and George stepped out onto Level Nine. He walked down the torch-lit hallway, passing by the stairs that led down to the courtrooms on Level Ten. He kept going straight until he reached the plain black door at the end of the hallway. He lifted his hand to knock, but the door opened before he lowered his hand. 

A tall, cadaverously thin witch stood on the other side. George smiled at her bright floral sundress, so out of place in the dark halls of the Unspeakables. 

“Mr Krupp?” she asked in a thin querulous voice. 

He nodded and held out his hand. 

“I’m Phyllis TenCrows.” She shook his hand and indicated for him to enter. 

He went through and the door closed behind him. 

“I’m to escort you to the Death Chamber.” She started to walk away. 

“I know the way, I’ve been here before, you know?” He held up his scarred hands. 

She nodded. “I know your history here, and I’m sorry, but visitors are rare here and must be escorted at all times.” 

He fell into step behind her and followed her through a sequence of rooms, some of which he remembered from his past visit and some he would swear were new. They only passed two other wizards, both of whom nodded at Phyllis, but didn’t greet her. They seemed to ignore George, but he felt them staring at him as he went by. 

The Death Chamber was just as he remembered it, a pit with carved stone steps that led down to the platform that the Veil rested on. The stone archway stood unsupported, with the frayed and decaying curtain hanging from it blowing in a breeze that no one could feel. George expected his mental wards to be overcome by the voices from behind the Veil, but he only heard a distant whispering. 

As he started down the steps after Phyllis, he noticed the water. Water trickled from under the curtain, dribbled in thin rivulets over the side of the dais that the archway was on, and ran down the stone sides onto the pit’s floor. It had started pooling in a few places. He stretched out his senses to it and it felt vaguely of Death, which was strange. He’d never felt water with a presence of Death before, and there should be a mass of souls on the other side of the Veil trying to contact him. 

Phyllis noticed he’d stopped and she stopped as well. 

“What is it?” she asked. 

“I don’t feel the spirits of the dead on the other side, or at least not as many as there should be, and they’re not speaking. The last time I was here they were all talking at once.” He waved his hand at her and they both started down the steps again. 

“Some of my colleagues say they can hear voices here, too,” she cocked her head. “But I’ve never heard anything. We theorize that some people are just sensitive to it.” 

They reached the bottom of the steps and George walked up to a puddle of the standing water. He pulled his wand, which glowed green when he touched it. He held it above the puddle and chanted in what Phyllis thought was Aramaic. He finished his incantation and looked at his wand, puzzled. 

“It’s strange, this water feels like Death, but water can’t hold that essence. It’s faint, but it’s there. He walked up to the dais, but didn’t touch it or climb on it. He put his face as close to the running water as he could and stared at where it dribbled from under the curtain. 

“I never imagined that when the letter said it was leaking that you meant literally. I figured that spirits were coming back through and I’d have to put down some sort of uprising of the dead.” He laughed. “I think I’ve seen too many zombie apocalypse movies.” 

Phyllis moved up next to him. “We know you’re the foremost expert on death and necromancy, that’s why we brought you here.” 

“Yeah, as my wife said this morning, though, you only called me because there was a ‘fucking problem,’ when I could have been here studying this at any time in the past.” He turned and met her eyes; to her credit she didn’t flinch back. 

“The director had his reasons…” she started to say, but he cut her off. 

“Yes, yes, I’m sure.” He smiled, and this time she did pull back slightly. “I’m sure that Bode had his reasons, mostly that he didn’t like me and was scared of what I might do here again. Or maybe he thought that I’d try to pull my father back from death and kill him again.” 

He sighed. “But, I’m here now and I’m willing to study this.” 

“Is there anything I can get you?” she asked. 

“Privacy,” he said shortly. 

“I can’t leave the room, but I can go sit on the steps near the door.” She started ascending. 

George sat down on a dry spot on the floor and quickly scribed a circle and triangle around himself. He began chanting, and this time Phyllis knew it was Gaelic of some sort. He waved his wand, trailing green sparks behind him. He closed his eyes and Phyllis’s neck broke out into goose pimples as she felt she was being watched from behind. She slid up one more step to be closer to the door. His eyes flickered open at her movement, then closed again. 

After fifteen minutes, her eyes drooped; after thirty, they closed. When she opened them again, her watch said an hour and half had passed, but still George sat on the floor and chanted. A rivulet of water touched the circle surrounding him and his wand stopped glowing. He opened his eyes, erased the triangle around himself, and stood shakily, his knees making loud cracks. 

“Well, what did you find?” she asked as she climbed stiffly down the steps. 

“Honestly, not much. I can feel spirits on the other side, but they seem to be distant, like hearing someone through a tin-can telephone, but the interesting thing is what I can hear, I can't understand. It's a language I've never heard before." George shook his head. "I can feel Death on the other side, but it's qualitatively different—it just feels different; I can't explain it." 

He reached into his pocket, pulled his danger pack out and went to sit on the steps near the rim of the room. As he walked, he expanded his pack with his wand. He reached in and pulled out a wax-paper wrapped parcel. 

"I'm going to have some lunch, then I'll go back to it." 

Phyllis nodded and retrieved a flask from her pocket and took a swig. She made a face, then put it back. 

"I've got to drink this potion twice a day at lunch and bedtime." She said in response to his unanswered question. 

"I hope it's all okay," he said around a bite of his sandwich. 

"Cervical cancer, but the Healers think I've a good chance of surviving. Witches and wizards are more resistant to Muggle diseases." 

George extended his senses toward her. She saw his gaze, physically felt his the presence of his mind on hers and shivered. 

"You know, don't you?" She asked. "You know when I'm going to die?" 

George nodded and met her eyes. "You have many years to come still. I won't tell you the exact date, because no one wants to know that, even those who think they do, but it's no time soon." 

"Thank you." 

George finished off his sandwich in silence, pretending not to notice the tears falling silently down her cheeks. He thought of his sister and her leukemia and his mother and her multiple cancers and how being a witch didn't save either of them. 

He'd just stood up to wipe the crumbs off his robes when he cocked his head to the side. 

"Do you hear that?" 

Phyllis wiped her face with her sleeve and listened. "I don't hear anything." 

"I hear bells." He grabbed his danger pack, shrank it and stuffed it in his pocket, then went down the steps to the dais that the archway stood on, pulling his wand as he went. His wand's wrappings retreated around his hand again and it began to glow green. 

A strident bell rang and his face went tense. He paused and his muscles locked in a battle for a moment. The bell continued ringing, telling him to walk: walk into the Veil, move into Death. He could feel the bell's similarity to his Voice of Command that he used on the dead. It shouldn't affect him, but he felt it drawing him in. He closed his mind with Occlumency and the compulsion abated. 

A woman's voice came from behind the veil, speaking in a language he didn't understand. The words were meaningless, but the tone was a clear challenge, "come to me, face me!" 

He lifted his wand and shouted a spell in Ancient Egyptian. The Veil parted and he could see behind it a shallow, swift-flowing river. The archway stood supported on a broad, carved boulder on the other side. The water leaks were splashes from the river flowing around it. 

"Stop!" Phyllis shouted. She lifted her wand and pointed it at George. 

George had been trained by his adopted uncle Harry Potter and spun faster than she could have believed for a man his size. His paralyzation spell caught her and she toppled onto the floor of the room. 

When he turned back to the veil he saw her, the woman behind the veil. She was younger than he by about ten years. She wore a mail garment of some light weave with an overlaid surcoat of purple chased with stars on green fields, crossed with silver keys, and over that a bandolier of bells that crossed from her shoulder to her waist. But it was her hand, her golden hand, that caught his attention, and the bell in it. 

She swung the bell overhead in a quick pattern before he could react and whistled in harmony with its pealing, and then he was walking, obeying the same command he thrown off just a moment before. His feet rose and fell, and then he was beyond the Veil.


	2. A Broken Charter Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lirael and Nick investigate a broken Charter Stone in the village of Hafnet.

Lirael stretched and rose quietly so she didn't wake Nick. Since the wedding he'd put on weight and was looking much better, no longer so thin that his ribs showed through. She brushed back his fair hair and exposed his Charter Mark. It flared a bit as her golden hand touched it, sending warm tingles through her body. She looked around at the opulent room and couldn't believe it was hers. Clariel told her that this suite in the Clayr's glacier was Lirael's home if she wanted it, at least until she became the Abhorsen in full and inherited the Abhorsen's estate. She sometimes wondered if she deserved it, and sometimes would trade it all for the Sight: except Nick, she wouldn't trade him for anything. 

Lirael made her way over the padded carpets into the bathroom. She noticed that the Charter sendings had set out her gethre armor, sword, and bells and knew that meant she'd be leaving on some mission. She suspected the Watch had Seen her leaving . 

"Lirael?" Nick's question came distantly from their bedroom. 

"I'm in the bath, love!" She shouted back. 

She disrobed and entered the steaming bath that the sendings had prepared for her, careful to put her hair up first, as it would take forever to dry. Nick came in a moment later. Lirael folded her arms across her chest, suddenly shy even though he'd seen her naked just the night before. She'd grown up in the Glacier and avoided male company until Nick, never going down to the Perfumed Garden for a liaison. 

He noticed her gear laid out, and then saw his mail shirt and blue surcoat, along with both of their packs. 

"Are we leaving so soon?" 

"I assume there's a letter under the door and somehow the sendings can sense it," she said, tapping the side of the tub and indicating for him to come over. She smiled; time to get over the shyness and now was as good a time as any. 

He walked to her, his robe swinging open with each step. He leaned over and kissed her. As their lips met, their Charter Marks began to glow. She stood and pulled his robe off. He took the invitation and joined her in the bath. 

"Where do you think we're going?" He asked as he washed her back. 

"Not sure, but wherever it is, I'll bet it's been Seen." 

He laughed. "Do you think they See us right now?" 

She turned and he kissed her again. It was a hungry kiss and she responded in kind. 

Later, Nick went to the door wrapped only in a towel to retrieve the letter. Lirael had already started putting on her armor by the time he returned. 

He slit the letter open, enjoying the feel of the thick paper used in the Old Kingdom. 

"It's from Touchstone; there's a request from Hafmet for the Abhorsen, but he, Sabriel, and Sam are still tied up with repairs to the Wall, and can we go at once?" She struggled with one of the straps on her armor and he helped her. She leaned forward and kissed him lightly, her cheeks coloring with memories of their morning together. 

"Hafmet's only two days by Paperwing. Did he say what the problem was?" Lirael asked. 

Nick consulted the letter again. "Only that there's a broken Charter Stone and a few dead Hands have been spotted." 

Lirael helped Nick into his clothes and armor, then he carefully picked up his Charter-spelled sword and sheathed it. He gotten better at controlling his power and the sword hadn't burst into flames in several months. 

They both went down to eat the breakfast laid out by the sendings. They both ate slowly, enjoying each other's presence and talking of Nick's Charter magic training. He'd been able to start casting Charter spells himself lately, but the results were still unpredictable. Lirael had convinced him that experimentation was best done together, which he said was rich coming from her considering what she'd told him about her past as an Assistant Librarian. 

They left the Abhorsen's apartments and met up with the guard outside their doors that had to be posted each time Nick was in residence, as officially he wasn't a guest, but a Free Magic curiosity to be studied by the librarians. 

"Your Paperwing is prepared, Abhorsen-in-Waiting," the guard told Lirael. 

"Thank you, Pelle...and it's Lirael, you know that" Lirael said. Pelle grimaced and nodded. 

Two days later, they arrived at the village of Hafmet. The village itself was larger than Lirael expected it to be. It sprawled over a major crossroads, with a horse trading camp located just outside it on the road that wound away to the west. The mayor of the village had seen them approaching and came out to meet them. 

"Abhorsen," he said puffing slightly as he walked quickly to where Lirael and Nick had landed in a fallow field. 

"Abhorsen-in-Waiting," Lirael said automatically, as she usually did when someone mistook her for Clariel. She lifted out her pack and his eyes went to her golden hand. Then they practically bulged out of his head at the sight of the Bells. 

"Mistress Lirael?" He asked, sounding unsure. 

"Just Lirael is fine," she responded as Nick grabbed his pack and stood by her side. 

She looked around at the low hills surrounding the village. 

"Where is the broken Charter Stone and where have the dead Hands been spotted?" She asked. 

"Well, um," the mayor sputtered, then regained his composure. "The stone itself went missing last night, and Jenkins, who was guarding it, is also gone." Lirael started to speak, but the mayor just talked over her. "As for the Hands, they were spotted right around where the stone was, but no one saw them last night, only that first night when the stone was broken." 

He paused to breathe. 

"What do you mean, gone? Like broken to pieces, or just gone?" Nick asked. 

"This is my husband Nick," Lirael said. The mayor bowed to him. 

"Sometime last night, we heard a loud crackling noise from the hill where the Charter Stone had been, and when we went to look this morning, it was gone, only the plinth it stood on remained. There were some footprints around it, but they weren't human. If we hadn't gotten your hawk that you'd be here today, we would've retreated to the old keep on the road to Olmond." 

"Can you take me to where the stone was?" Lirael asked. 

The mayor's face paled. He pointed at a hill close by. "It's just up there, Abhorsen—uh, Lirael," he squeaked. 

Lirael nodded at Nick, and they both set off toward the low hill the mayor had pointed at. It only took a few minutes to get there, but before they even arrived, Lirael could sense the presence of Death. Something had come through recently, something powerful. The found the footprints the mayor had been talking about near where the Charter Stone had rested. They were human-shaped, but impossibly large. 

Nick reached out to feel the Charter, and put his hand on the empty plinth. His Charter Mark awakened and glowed. Warmth spread out from him, in a nearly visible wave toward the village. 

"I think that may help?" He asked, unsure. 

Lirael nodded. "I still don't understand how you do that." 

"I just feel it, the Charter is used to being tapped here, so it's easy to bring it back. What do you feel?" 

She closed her eyes and opened up her other senses. After a moment, she spoke. "Some Greater Dead thing came through here, a Fifth Gate lurker of some sort." 

She opened her eyes again. "Breaking the Charter Stone, I understand, but why take it away?" 

"Wait, doesn't it take the blood of a Charter Mage to break one of them?" Nick asked. 

"Yes, it does, but I don't see blood or sense anyone having died near here recently." 

"What about Jenkins, the man who was guarding it?" 

"I'm thinking he ran off; I definitely don't feel anyone died here recently." She sighed. "I'm going to go into Death and use the mirror to see what happened." She turned and kissed him. "Guard my body." 

"I will, with my life," he said. 

He took her golden hand as she cast the diamond of protection around themselves. When they had finished, she sat down, and he sat near her, ready to warn her if anything approached in life. After a moment, her breathing stopped and her body iced over. 

Lirael stepped out into the grey light of the First Precinct, senses wide for danger, but she felt nothing nearby. She took a few steps in, and then to the side, being careful not to let the current trip her. After another look around, she pulled out her Dark Mirror. 

She raised it to her right eye, keeping watch with her other. Soon, the Mirror cleared. She focused her mind on the hill and pictured the Charter Stone that had stood there outside Hafmet. 

She pulled the Charter Marks she needed, and released them. "I would see the Charter Stone that stood here, two nights past." 

A vision of Nick guarding her body on the hill came into the mirror, then the sun pulled back, and they retreated backwards from the hill. The sun in the mirror went back in its orbit twice and she could see the Charter Stone limned from behind with pale moonlight. A large, fiery, vaguely man-shaped form stepped out from Death, pointed a stick, no a wand, at the Charter Stone, and said something in a language she didn't understand. The stone shattered like a mirror that had been struck. Its surface of Charter Marks crazed and broke. They stopped moving. A trace of energy lashed out from the broken Charter Stone, hitting the wand the Dead thing wielded. The wand turned to ash and the Dead thing retreated into Death. 

Lirael moved the events forward to the next night. A man sat near the broken Charter Stone, a sword naked on his lap. The same Dead thing opened up a pathway from Death. The man with the sword rose and ran away, terror taking his voice. The Dead thing's head turned to follow the man, but it didn't pursue. Instead, it reached out with impossibly long and strong hands and lifted the broken Charter Stone. As it did, its feet, sank into the soft earth. Then it took the stone with it back into Death. 

Lirael snapped the mirror shut, looked around again, both with sight and with her Death sense, but didn't feel anything unusual. 

Time to try something she'd been working on with Nick. 

She touched her golden hand to her Charter Mark and reached out to him with her mind. Charter Marks spilled around her hand as she spoke. 

"Going deeper into death to see where Greater Dead took Charter Stone." 

"Be careful, love," his voice said into her head. 

She crossed into the Second Precinct, keeping her senses open for trouble. As she traversed it to the whirlpool Gate that led to the Third Precinct, she could begin to feel the presence of a Greater Dead spirit. 

She went to the very edge of the Gate before extending her senses again. Feeling nothing different, she ran through the Third Precinct, readying the spell to pass through the Gate to the Fourth Precinct. 

When she reached the relative safety of the Fourth Precinct, she pulled Saraneth, the Binder and held it ready, along with the commands to bind a dead spirit. Her Death sense told her it had passed through here recently. She cast a spell, and a line lit up on the waters, running parallel to the gate. She followed it cautiously, pulling her sword to join Saraneth in her other hand. 

She didn't have to go far before she saw it. The broken Charter Stone lay in the waters of the Fourth Precinct. But what got her attention fully, was the archway standing unsupported above the stone with a tattered curtain blowing from it. She could sense a necromancer on the other side of the veil, a strong one, the strongest pull of Death she had ever felt from a living creature. 

She carefully put Saraneth away and pulled Kibeth. It felt warm and welcoming in her hand like always. She raised the bell over her hand and rang it in a figure-eight. 

"Necromancer, hear me, hear Kibeth, come through that you may face me." Her challenge rang out, Charter Marks spilling along it toward the Veil and through it. 

She felt the spell hit the necromancer on the other side and take, then suddenly, it was thrown off. She shook her head, stunned for just a second at the breaking of her spell. 

A man's voice spoke from the other side of the veil in a language she didn't understand. 

The veil parted, and she saw the necromancer. He was a tall bald man, about ten to twenty years older than her. He wore black robes with a hood that wasn't up currently. In his right hand, he held a wand made of bone that glowed green with runes of some sort. A few paces behind him in the circular room, a thin woman in a bright dress pointed a wand at him and shouted. He spun quickly, and his wand spat out a thin ribbon of red light that hit the woman in the chest. She collapsed as Lirael watched. 

He turned back to the archway, but Lirael had recovered. She rang Kibeth again, this time whistling a Charter spell of command along with it to come. This time, she felt his concentration fail, and he was walking toward her, through the archway and into Death with her.


	3. A Meeting in the River of Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George meets Lirael in the River of Death.

George crossed over the Veil, and he knew he should be dead, but he wasn't. As he crossed, his mental wards started to crack. He could either break the spell the woman was casting on him, or he could protect his mind from the sudden shock of being surrounded by Death on all sides. He chose to protect his mind. He imagined a great flexible wall filled with sound-proof cork surrounding him. The overwhelming sense of Death faded, leaving him standing face-to-face with the young woman.

 

She put away the bell she had been ringing and brought out the second largest bell. When she rang it, George felt a strong compulsion, but his mental wards threw it off completely and he started to lift his wand. She whistled again, this time the tone in complement to the deep bell, but again George threw it off with his Occlumency training. As she advanced on him with her sword, George stunned her. The bell stayed gripped in her right, golden hand, but the sword fell from her grasp. George picked up and then almost dropped it in shock when bright runes flared out of it.

 

He grasped the sword tighter and looked it over. The runes flowed and changed as he watched, but he couldn't make them out. He turned his attention back to the woman and extended his senses to her, imagining a small hole in this mental wall that he was looking through. The first thing he sensed was the strong presence of Death on the bells she wore. He could feel something of the nature of each of them and realized that they were used in the binding and control of dead spirits. He moved closer and saw another of the runes on her forehead. It looked so familiar, and then he realized that in the spells she'd cast, he'd seen the mark of the Deathly Hallows as the golden symbols dripped from her hands and mouth. The triangle with the circle and the straight line down it represent the Elder Wand was unmistakable.

 

He leaned closer to inspect the mark on her forehead more. As he did, his wand began to glow and the Egyptian hieroglyphs on it twisted, spun, and reformed as he watched into more of the strange runes. One of them on his wand now matched the one on her forehead. He touched his wand to her rune and he fell into a vortex of the symbols. He could sense deep, old magic in their golden light. It was a magic of life and death, of binding and freedom; it held all the mysteries in it if they could just be deciphered. Then, suddenly, he was ejected, rejected by this strange magic as not a part of it.

 

George smiled. He understood now that she was like him, a binder of the Dead, someone to give final peace to those who needed it and forced rest to those who deserved it. He awkwardly sheathed her sword in her holster, stepped back from her and released his spell on her. As he did, he lowered his wand.

 

She put away the bell she was holding and stepped forward, indicating with her golden hand that she wanted to touch his wand. He held it out to her and she touched the new rune on his wand with her finger. Immediately, bright golden light spilled out and around both of them. George jumped slightly, but she seemed to be expecting it. She stepped back and looked around. He understood that she was looking around them for dangers, and not just using her five normal senses. He lessened his wards and did the same, but didn't feel anything near, no spirits or Animortes.

 

She pulled the middle bell out of her bandolier and began ringing it straight up and down while chanting. He could see the pattern of the runes forming around her in a golden flow, but couldn't grasp what the spell was doing. The bell, though, that was familiar; it was the sound of him commanding the dead to speak to him, giving them a voice that was sometimes lost with the passage of time. She made a final flourish with the bell, ringing it quickly and then the spell was complete. A band of marks hung before her. She put the bell away, carefully covering its clapper. She raised both hands and put them inside the glowing circle of the spell.

 

Suddenly, she flung it at George who involuntarily flinched back. The spell band landed on his head, then oozed slowly down his head before settling on his neck, constricting tightly around his throat. He gagged and pulled at it. His hands passed through the insubstantial runes that were still somehow choking him. He raised his wand to dispel them.

 

"No, don't!" She shouted. "It should make it so we can understand each other!" He could hear she spoke in her own language, but understood it somehow through the spelled chain around his neck.

 

"Handy, that," he said, "but it feels like a too-tight jumper."

 

"I am Lirael, the Abhorsen-in-Waiting, and I come here in pursuit of a greater Dead creature who broke this Charter Stone," she said.

 

"My name's George Krupp, and I'm a necromancer. I came to investigate what has happened to the Veil, and why water is flowing out from it suddenly." He pointed at the archway that rested over the broken Charter Stone. They both noticed that the curtain had closed to cover it again.

 

"You are not a part of this world, George Krupp," she said.

 

"This is definitely not the world of Death on the other side of the Veil as described to me by the spirits that reside there." George looked around. "The grey light and sense of desolation is similar, but none have ever described a great river of Death."

 

He looked back to Lirael, sure of it now. "This is not my world."

 

"How does your wand bear a Charter Mark?" She asked.

 

"How does your magic, you call it a Charter Mark?" he asked. "How does it have the symbol of the Deathly Hallows?" He drew a triangle of fire on the surface of the water and bisected it with a line, then drew a circle inside it.

 

Lirael stared at the symbol. "This is a Master Charter Mark, used to bind together other, lesser Marks, and to strengthen spells of Death in particular."

 

"In my world, this mark is the symbol of the Deathly Hallows, a set of artefacts that make one Master of Death." He didn't tell her that at one point or another, he had possessed each of those artefacts, but that he'd found he didn't need them to master Death.

 

Lirael began to speak, but then straightened and drew her sword with her golden hand.

 

"What--" George began.

 

She held up her other hand for silence. He stretched out with his sense of Death reaching around his mental warding. Something was coming, something powerful. It was both familiar with a presence he hadn't felt since he was a teen; but, it was also unfamiliar and strange in its power.

 

"Something is coming," she said. "It's immensely strong, I think we should retreat into life and the sun."

 

"Why not stay and send it to its final rest?" He asked. "Between the both of us, we should be able to handle anything here."

 

She shook her head. "Five years ago, I would have agreed to that, but I've learned caution since." She held up her golden hand with the sword in it, and George took it to mean she lost her hand doing something ill-advised. He nodded and they moved against the current. He instinctively knew it was back into life.

 

They came to a wall of mist.

 

"Get ready to run," she said.

 

His Death sense tingled as she chanted a quick spell at the wall of mist. He could also sense the Dead creature that was coming getting closer.

 

"Run!" she shouted as she finished the incantation. She didn't wait for him and began to run through the strangely dormant section of the river that lay ahead of them. He paused for just a second, then ran after her. She chanted the entire time she ran, with the practiced ease of someone who had done this before.

 

Just as they reached a great spiral staircase of frozen water and mounted it, a great wave crashed away underneath them toward the wall of mist. He knew that nothing could have stood against the strength and power of that wave. He could tell that the thing following them had paused at the wall of mist and hadn't been washed away. That meant it knew about this river, but it couldn't know since it wasn't of this world, just like George.

 

"Lirael, the thing following us; I know what or rather who it is," he told her as they waded. She held out a hand in front of him and stopped him from stepping into a deep sinkhole. As he looked and sensed into that sinkhole, he knew if he'd fallen into it, he would have floundered and caused them a possibly fatal delay. He felt the Dead thing following them again.

 

"Tell me about it when we reach life again." Lirael led him through the river until they reached a waterfall that cascaded down from above. Again, she cast a spell and a platform of water appeared. She beckoned him to step on it next to her. It rose against the current of the waterfall, like a lift powered by magic.

 

Soon, they reached a place where the river was relatively shallow and the current not so strong. They only walked about a hundred paces when Lirael stopped.

 

"Can you feel the way to life?" She asked.

 

He nodded. He knew life was near and he instinctively knew how to reach it.

 

Lirael said one word and she disappeared back into life.

 

George held his wand up. Hieroglyphs and runes came to life on it.

 

"Viversempra," he said, the incantation coming to him easily, even though he'd never used it before.

 

He stepped out into life and a bright sun shining over a hill with muddy footprints.

 

A sword point pricked his neck.

 

"Who are you?" The man holding the sword asked.

 

"It's all right Nick, he's not an enemy." Lirael put her hand on Nick's and he lowered the sword.

 

"You're sure?" He asked. "He has a wand, like the thing that destroyed the Charter Stone."

 

"His wand has an unsullied Charter Mark." She pointed to where it glowed greenly on George's wand.

 

Nick held out his hand to the wand, and George lifted it so Nick could touch the Charter Mark. After a moment, Nick seemed satisfied. George touched his wand tip to Nick's mark and felt the same falling sensation as when he'd touched Lirael's, then just as suddenly, the magic rejected him.

 

 

"The Charter doesn't like him," Nick said, raising his sword again. "It's like he's from outside it somehow."

 

"I am not from this world," George said, lowering his wand.

 

"Is that possible?" Nick asked Lirael.

 

She smiled and pressed his sword back down. "You're not from the Old Kingdom, either."

 

"Fair point, that." Nick sheathed his sword.

 

"He could have killed me in Death, but he didn't, and he says he knows who or what broke this stone." She stepped back by Nick and took his hand. Her golden hand began to glow and runes danced on it just like they did on George's wand.

 

"I'm George Krupp." George held out his hand.

 

"Ah, someone who knows about shaking hands. Are you from Ancelstierre?" He shook George's hand. "I'm Nicholas Sayre, Lirael's husband."

 

"Sorry, no, I don't know of Ancelstierre," George said, pronouncing it correctly. "I'm from England."

 

"Never heard of it." Nick looked at Lirael. She shook her head, she hadn't heard of it either.

 

"Are we safe to talk here?" George asked. "Is the creature likely to come through?"

 

 

"Not into the sunlight, and not while we're both here, I don't think, but retreating a little way seems prudent." Lirael led the way to the bottom of the hill.

 

When they stopped, she turned back to George. "Now tell me what you know about this Dead spirit."

 

 

"It's my father, or at least partially my father."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An Animorte or Animortes (plural) are literally the walking dead. In George's parlance, they are re-animated corpses with a touch of the dead person's spirit attached, so they have pretty much the personality of a magical portrait in a dead, zombie body.


	4. All Things Must Pass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George confronts his father one last time with the help of Nick and Lirael.

Lirael waited for George to continue, and when he paused, she prompted him with a question. "What do you mean?"

 

George licked his lips, started to say something, paused, thought for a moment, and finally said, "When I was a teenager, he tried to make me open the door between life and death so that he could bring back my mother from the dead. I sent him through the Veil instead and told him to wander the realms of Death forever. It looks like he found some way to escape to another world."

 

"We think that when the Dead thing destroyed the Charter stone that it may have opened a way between the worlds," Lirael said.

 

Nick interrupted, "Wait, did you just say that you cursed your father to wander Death forever? Was he so bad?"

 

"Let's see," George started counting on his fingers.

 

"He stalked my Mum and abused her so badly that she finally just walked through the Veil to escape him."

 

"He killed my Aunt, who I thought was my mother for years."

 

"He killed my sister to try to get my powers to flare, so he could bring my mother back sooner."

 

He looked up with a fierce glare. "And then he killed my cat. So yeah, he was that evil."

 

"He was looking to cheat death and he wanted to know what they all saw on the other side. He was a researcher in my world, looking into the Veil, which was what Lirael saw, a literal veil between life and death. He tried to use mind control on me to force me to bring them all back from the dead, through the Veil, but he failed. I'd been training my mind for years to keep out the voices of the dead, and he hadn't realized just how strong I was. I threw off his control and when he commanded me to bring back my mother again, I pushed him partially into the Veil and held him there while I cursed him."

 

"Looks like he's found a work-around to cheat death here, and we can't have that," Nick said. "Lirael here will send him to his final rest."

 

"You don't seem to think he'll come out into the sunlight. Is it because of the creature he's become or merged with?" George asked.

 

"It seems when he came across that he was a spirit and he joined with some creature that came up from the fifth precinct or farther." Lirael looked at George. "I'm not sure why you're here physically and not just as a spirit, though."

 

"Ah, that's simple, I believe," George said. "My father was actually physically sent into death through the Veil, but when I went through it, it wasn't connected to Death on my side, but instead it was connected to your version of Death, so I have a corporeal body here." He looked quizzically at Lirael. "Can you physically enter Death here, or can you only project your spirit from your body?"

 

Lirael paused before answering. "It may be possible to create a portal or some other way to physically go into death, but if it is possible, I don't know how."

 

"The Disreputable Dog could do it," Nick said.

 

"Well, yes, but she was one of the Shiners, so she doesn't count, does she?" Lirael asked Nick, who shrugged. George looked lost.

 

"So, this thing that has merged with my father, it won't come into sunlight?" George asked again.

 

"No, I don't think so," Lirael answered. "Direct sunlight would damage its physical Free Magic shell and then while its spirit was dazed, we could enter Death and send it to its end."

 

"The question is how do we lure it out? Or, do we wait until it comes out on its own?" Nick asked.

 

"My dad will be after me, no matter what else happens, so you can use me as bait," George said. "I'm confident that between Lirael and me that we could defeat any dead creature."

 

"That over-confidence might get you killed," Lirael said shortly. "There are often more things to worry about than just the Dead, there are also Free Magic constructs and other things that the creature your father bonded with could summon or call to him." She shook her head. "We could be overwhelmed with sheer numbers."

 

"This creature knows about both you and George, but he doesn't know about me and what I can do," Nick said.

 

"What can you do?" George asked curiously.

 

Lirael answered first after a brief glance at Nick for approval. "Nick can act as a type of reservoir for Charter Magic, a kind of portable Charter Stone."

 

"Ah, like a battery," George said.

 

"That's what he's said, too," Lirael smiled.

 

"Would the creature actually buy this mummery?" George asked.

 

Lirael looked confused, but Nick said, "What he means is do you think that it will believe that we're actually trying to fix the Stone and not laying a trap?"

 

George nodded.

 

"I don't know, it seems pretty intelligent..." Lirael said, but George interrupted.

 

"My father's wary by nature and would expect a trap, but you could give him bait he couldn't resist: me." It was Nick's turn to look confused, but Lirael caught on right away.

 

"You're our ‘prisoner,' right? That's what you're suggesting?"

 

George nodded and together they finished their plan.

 

As the sun began to set behind the low hills, Lirael sat next to the Charter Stone in a diamond of protection with Nick's hand resting on her shoulder. She chanted lowly under her breath and Charter Marks flowed from her to the stone, repairing it slowly. Nick gripped the hilt of his sword, which he had loosened in its scabbard. George sat nearby, tied up inside the second, reinforcing diamond of protection around them with a gag over his mouth.

 

George's Death sense picked up something from the Charter Stone and he sat up a little straighter. Lirael must have flinched because Nick was also suddenly more alert. Lirael kept up with her Charter casting, and marks kept flowing from her golden hand and her mouth into the Charter Stone.

 

The stone exploded suddenly in a shower of gravelly shrapnel, striking Lirael and Nick and rebounding crazily inside the diamond of protection. George was spared this in his own diamond. Where the stone had stood a gaping portal opened now instead. Dead Hands began to pour through, their bodies forming from nothing as their spirits entered life. George recognized some of them as witches and wizards who had died. His father must have summoned them from Death with the creature's help.

 

Nick recovered first and drew his sword with a practiced motion. It burst into golden flame immediately. The first Hand tried to grab Lirael, but Nick removed its head from its body and the Free Magic created body burned away into noxious smoke. More Hands were coming, and a large, vaguely man-like creature wreathed in yellowish flame stalked behind them, lurking just beyond the portal in Death. It watched the Hands that came through attacked and were killed by Nick. One touch of his Charter-spelled sword and its golden flame destroyed any Dead it touched. The creature waved a taloned hand and more Dead came through. It came through right behind them and went off to the side, where it started to unravel the second diamond of protection that separated it from George.

 

Lirael let her Charter spell go, catching the Dead thing by surprise. Usually a Charter Spell of that complexity could not be stopped so abruptly without dire consequence for the caster. Lirael stood behind Nick's sweeping sword and pulled Kibeth off her bandolier. She rang it heartily, and the Dead attacking her and Nick stopped and began to retreat into Death as she poured her will into the bell. The creature's feet twitched for a moment and then it went back to trying to undo the diamond of protection. It barked a word that silenced the bell in Lirael's hand and the Dead shuffled back forward. When it turned back to the diamond, it found the diamond gone and George standing in front of it, wand out, slack bonds at his feet and the gag around his neck like a kerchief, just covering the Charter spell that Lirael had cast to translate.

 

"Hello, Dad. I see you in there," George said and then poked his wand at it. He said something in a language that hurt Nick's and Lirael's ears and the creature staggered back.

 

George began to chant in the same language as he waved his wand like a fencer. The creature retreated slowly from him, with green trails of spectral mist emanating from it as George's spell starting ablating its body.

 

Lirael put Kibeth back in her bandolier and drew Saraneth. She tried to put her will into it to reinforce it as she rang, but the creature turned its head entirely around without turning its body and pointed a finger at her. Her golden hand betrayed her and dropped lifeless, the bell clattering to the ground.

 

George took advantage of the distraction to step up his assault and Nick had nearly finished off the Dead Hands when a second wave came through.

 

"Choose, boy, you can finish me, but if you do, your new friends here will perish." The creature boomed in a smoky, hot ash voice.

 

"Who says ‘perish'?" George asked and the creature's head turned back to him. It didn't notice as Nick laid his free hand on Lirael's shoulder and her golden hand began to glow again.

 

"What?" the creature demanded.

 

"I mean, just say ‘die,' don't say ‘perish'," George said.

 

The creature stepped forward to wrap George in its impossibly long arms when it heard the bells from behind it. Saraneth rang true, binding it as Kibeth rang joyfully at the same time in a counter-point. The creature struggled as its will was being sapped as the spectral mist began emanating from it again as Lirael's command took hold.

 

"Bound by Saraneth, bound by Kibeth, walk into Death and never return," she intoned.

 

It shook and struggled and seemed on the point of breaking free, when George held his pan pipes up to his mouth and blew on them. Saraneth's tones poured from George's pipe as well, reinforcing Lirael's spell. George lifted his wand in his other hand and cast silently at the creature, putting his will into the same command as Lirael.

 

"Bound by Saraneth, bound by Kibeth, walk into Death and never return," George thought as he put all of his will into the spell. His breath began to leave him and he knew that if he let it go completely that the creature would break free. His vision went red, then black and he sank to a knee.

 

Nick released Lirael's shoulder just as George began to fail and took two quick strides toward the creature. His flaming sword took it in the chest and the spectral body fell away in a sudden, sulfurous burst of smoke. A pale, old man lay there. His piebald head was mottled with cancerous growths and his hands grasped weakly. His clothes rotted away instantly, leaving only his skeletally thin, naked frame.

 

"You've failed again, father," George gasped as he rose from his knees and caught his breath. "You will never have what you want. Mother has gone to her reward as well as Wilhelmina and you will never be master of death. Does it kill you further to know that I once held all the Hallows in my hand and rejected them?"

 

His father shuddered and collapsed, breathing raggedly, his face contorted in pain.

 

"You always were a stupid boy," he wheezed. "You could have had the power of Life and Death forever and no one would ever need die."

 

"All things must pass," Lirael answered.

 

"I could not have said it better myself," George said. He began weaving a spell, his wand darting to and fro as he chanted in Ancient Egyptian. The cartouches on his wand began to glow green and Lirael saw a faint golden Charter Mark in them as well.

 

"Go, go to you final rest, go to the..." he looked to Lirael.

 

"The final precinct, and look to the stars," she said.

 

"...to the final precinct and look to the stars," George finished.

 

His father rose as George's spell took hold and he walked stiffly into the portal. He turned to say something, but Lirael held a small bell. She rang it and his mouth opened but nothing came out.

 

"I thought that Dyrim would perhaps work, as he didn't seem to be properly Dead, but not properly alive either." Lirael sat down heavily.

 

George's father walked into the portal, which started closing behind him. He spared one last murderous glance at his son before the portal irised shut.

 

George also sat down heavily beside Lirael. Only Nick remained standing, his flaming sword still bared in his hand.

 

After a few moments, Nick spoke. "Don't you think that you should go into Death and make sure that it goes all the way down?"

 

"I'm too tired," Lirael said, "it's too dangerous right now. We don't know how many more spirits it might have on the other side. Let's go down to the village and rest. We can come back in the morning."

 

Nick and George nodded. Before they left, Nick recast the two diamonds of protection around the broken Charter Stone and Lirael tied a small warning spell to them that would alert them if anything more slipped from Death.

 

The next morning the sun shone brightly and as they were all trudging back to the hill where the Charter Stone lay broken, another paperwing landed nearby. Sabriel stepped out, her long black hair tied behind her in a queue. Introductions were made all around and she seemed quite curious about the Charter Mark on George's wand, but put it off for later.

 

"I will go into Death and make sure the creature has gone," Sabriel said. She sat in a diamond of protection while Nick and Lirael stood watch. No sooner had her body iced over then she returned.

 

"There is a spirit on the other side who would talk with you, George," she said. "Do you need to go into Death with me?"

 

George shook his head and sat next to her. He cleared his mind, took down his mental barriers and reached out into the river of death.

 

"George, it's Sirius," the voice came from Death into his head. He could picture Harry's godfather in his mind clearly. He had spoken to him before and passed a message to Harry.

 

"Yes, Sirius?" George asked.

 

"I need to move on finally. Please let Harry know that I love and miss him and that I'm sorry I let him down."

 

"I will let Harry know," George promised. Sirius's voice slipped from his mind and he know that Sabriel had returned to Death and led Sirius away so that his spirit could not be corrupted by the waters of the river.

 

EPILOGUE

 

Later that day, after Sabriel had returned, they turned their attention to George.

 

"I do not know how to return you to your own world," Sabriel said to him. "Will you come with me to Belisaere and we will see what we can do?"

 

"That won't be necessary," a voice came from Lirael's belt pouch. A small terrier's head was forcing it's way out of the pouch, then its body came after it. The pouch was too small to have held this dog, but George had seen magic like it before.

 

"He cannot stay here," the dog said with a very human looking mouth in its dog's muzzle.

 

Lirael knelt swiftly and hugged the dog tightly. The dog licked her face in greeting and reached up with a paw to wipe away a tear from her cheek.

 

"Why not?" Sabriel asked.

 

"His other-worldly presence here has a chance of upsetting the magic of this world and reawakening Orannis." The dog broke free from Lirael's embrace and sniffed George.

 

"Yes, he must return," the dog confirmed.

 

"But how will I return?" George asked.

 

The dog sighed. "I will have to take you. I knew that my time here was coming to another end."

 

Lirael's tears flowed faster and Nick gripped her shoulders tightly. She reached out and hugged the dog to her again.

 

"Please, please don't go again," she whispered to the dog.

 

"I must," the dog said back to her, "I'm sorry, but I must take him away from here for all of you. It will be another adventure for me. I'm just sorry that I won't get to see your whelps."

 

George and Sabriel retreated a way and let the dog and Lirael say their goodbyes while Nick held Lirael. It was only a short time, and George and Sabriel tried to make conversation, but it failed under the weight of the farewells.

 

Lirael stood and led the dog back to where Sabriel and George stood. Nick followed behind her.

 

"What about the other spirits that washed into the river from his world?" Sabriel asked the dog.

 

"They won't be a problem now that they've gone to the final precinct and moved on, but the living presence of a necromancer as strong as George would call to Orannis even in his bindings and I fear that George would become corrupted." The dog sat down next to George and eyed him frankly. "Although, if he hasn't been corrupted already, it might not happen; but might not is not good enough for me."

 

The dog licked Lirael's hand, then nudged George with her head. "Take my collar and don't let go no matter what."

 

George gulped and nodded.

 

Kibeth began to bark and her paws began to move in time with her barks. She faded slowly away, taking George with her.

 

Lirael sobbed.

 

DOUBLE SECRET EPILOGUE

 

George reappeared in his garden. He looked dazedly around at the blooming flowers. He'd only been gone for two, no three days, but it looked like at least two weeks had passed here.

 

"Dog, how much time has passed?" he asked, but she was nowhere to be found. He opened his hand, and found a soapstone sculpture of a dog in it. He could feel magic in it and smiled. He slipped it into his pocket and went up to the door of his house. His wife opened the door and ran at him, pulling him into a hug and tearful kiss.


End file.
